In a world where everything seems perfectly logical and pragmatic. The thought of anything existing outside of the realm of what one already knows seems impractical.
That is how Melinda Morrison sees life.
The very life where she has shared nearly e...
The illusions of the heart may be the traitor that stabs the heart.
"So you're just going to sit there all day?"
"What... Yemoja?" I blinked, shaking off the fog of exhaustion. There he was, standing in front of me. My older brother, Yemoja—looked as sharp and composed as ever, as if the maze had barely touched him. What the hell was he doing here?
He crossed his arms, smirking. "I asked if you're going to sit there all day? At this rate, you'll rot in here completely. Some Crown Prince you'll make."
I clenched my fists, my teeth grinding against each other. "You said you wanted nothing to do with the ascension trials, now you're cutting the line to get ahead?" My voice was thick with frustration.
Yemoja chuckled, the same infuriating laugh that always made me feel like I was three steps behind him. "Is that what you honestly think, Kiran? Are you using your brain or making assumptions once more?"
I froze. Kiran? How the hell did he know that name? Only a select few called me that here, no one else even knew that name from the other world. "Kiran?" I echoed, feeling a chill crawl down my spine. But before I could say anything more, Yemoja lunged forward, his hand snatching the key out of my grasp with lightning speed.
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"Yemoja, you shit! Give it back!" I shouted, scrambling to my feet, but he was already gone—his figure darting down the winding halls with a grace that only further fueled my anger.
How did he get here? How did he even know where I was? None of it made sense. The maze was supposed to be a unique experience for every participant—there were no intersections, no shared paths. So how was he here? And why would he take my key?
I bolted after him, adrenaline pumping through my veins, erasing the exhaustion that had weighed me down moments ago. The corridor twisted and narrowed as I ran, my breath loud in my ears. Yemoja was fast—too fast. My boots slapped against the cold stone as I forced myself to keep pace, muscles burning. The walls around us seemed to shimmer, and I could feel the maze warping the space, bending reality.
"Yemoja!" I shouted again, my voice bouncing off the stone walls. His silhouette darted around a corner, too far ahead now. I pushed harder, chest heaving with every breath, sweat pouring down my back.
But as I rounded the corner, my feet skidded to a halt. He was gone. Instead, I found myself staring at three doors—each identical in appearance, heavy wooden frames with intricate carvings, standing ominously before me.
"Yemoja?" I muttered, eyes scanning the space. Nothing. No sign of him. No sound except the quiet thrum of the maze shifting around me.
I took a step closer to the doors, confusion gnawing at me. This has to be another trial, I realized. The maze was playing tricks on me again. Yemoja couldn't have been real—he wouldn't know my earth name, and he certainly wouldn't be in here, stealing my key.
